All Men Must Die
by Juulna
Summary: SPOILERS! POST-ENDGAME FIX-IT! Death isn't done with the Avengers. And they aren't done with Death. Once they realize that Death has brought one of their own back to them, the bargaining begins for Natasha's life. But Death drives a hard bargain. Just look at Tony—he didn't come back quite right, as if Death had taken something from him in payment. [Steve x Bucky x Pepper x Tony]
1. Chapter 1

**Note: **I posted this on AO3 right after I saw Endgame, and then totally forgot to upload it here in all the fury and furor in the fandom. Hoo boy. But here I am now, finally! Been working on Cross too, so yay! At least I've been productive lol.

la la la, I hope you enjoy this! Don't worry huns... there will absolutely be a happy ending, even if I write a lot of angst before that. :D

Let me know what you think! MUAH! xoxoxo

_**NEEDLESS TO SAY, THIS STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR ENDGAME**_

_**(I still said it anyway, because y'never know.)**_

_(Also: Rating will change to M later on due to adult content and violence.)_

* * *

Everyone was gone.

It was dark out, and everyone had left her land. Her land. Just hers now.

Everyone had left except her and Morgan and Happy, who had fallen asleep together on the couch in the play room, watching a movie.

It was silent, just her and the rustle of the wilderness surrounding her, so si—

"Pepper."

Perhaps she was not as alone as she thought. She could've sworn she'd seen him leave with his best friends, with the other Avengers.

They had no place here.

"Captain," Pepper replied, her voice containing more emptiness than maliciousness.

She thought she'd be angrier with him than she felt in this moment.

She turned around, only to be greeted with the sight of _two_ of them, on her deck, on her property, near her child, near her, after everything, after…

After she lost her other half.

After _they_—

No. No, _she _was just as much to blame. They may have planted the seed, but she allowed it to blossom, encouraged it to grow and rise from the earth and to be what it—_who he_ was always meant to be.

A hero.

The best of all of them.

"Sergeant," Pepper added after she swallowed and gathered her composure around her like the armor which she could activate with a flick of her wrist.

Something _he_ had made her, from the ground up, just for her. His hands. His heart. His love for her in every nanite and strand of code which flowed through Rescue.

She'd been able to fight for him, for her daughter, for _everyone_, with what her husband had made for her with his own two hands. With his mind, his brilliant mind, he had crafter her something that she could use to protect everyone she loved. Everyone except…. No. No, she couldn't go down that rabbit hole. Not yet. Not right now. She'd held it together for so long. She'd been strong for the ones who'd needed her to be strong _for them_.

For Peter, who had been lost for years in something, some place, some _time_ she still did not understand, not fully. Peter, who missed Tony so much it hurt to see.

For Harley, who'd been lost just the same, but who'd had a longer connection with her husband than even Peter.

For Happy, who had also been lost, and who hadn't been able to be there for Tony's final moments, both before the Decimation and _after_.

For Shuri, who'd been lost and had lost many of her own to the True Death, before and after, and who had one of the wickedest minds Pepper had ever seen challenge Tony in a way he absolutely delighted in—much as he may have complained, it was never very serious.

And for _Morgan_, her sweet Morgan, who didn't know what had happened but had understood too quickly, too well, for Pepper's ease of mind. She had understood in that solemn way of hers that reminded her so much of Morgan's father, her brain piecing together every last bit that she knew and had been able to suss out on her own, no matter how much Pepper had tried to shelter her. In the end, Pepper knew that Morgan would find out, would figure it all out—she always did—but she had hoped to save her from… from something not even Pepper could figure out. Because didn't her daughter deserve to know everything that befell her father? Everything that he'd done to save Pepper, to save those lost before and after, to save the world, to save his _daughter_?

Pepper had been too strong, for too many people, for too long. This last week had seemed to last forever, and here she was at the end of her husband's funeral, when she'd thought everyone had left, when she'd thought she'd be able to crack… and she _couldn't_.

"Pepper?"

She was dragged kicking and screaming out of her mind, her heart, and forced to pay attention to the world outside once again. She'd been remiss in her duties as host, but she honestly didn't care right now. She really didn't. She felt the exact _opposite_ of caring right now, and it was likely that which allowed the next words to leave her mouth.

"You know he loved you, right?"

The shock on his face made her feel… made her feel _happy_. No, vindictive was the right word for it. She'd held this in for so long, had talked about it with no one except her therapist, had kept all her anger towards Steve and the others at bay for so long, mostly by removing herself from their proximity as often as she could… so it felt _good_. It felt good to shock him, to get some reaction from him besides his stoicism and stubbornness. Besides his sincere wish to _help her in her 'time of need'_ to the point that she wanted to _punch him_. Fuck, but did she ever sometimes.

Perhaps she was biased—probably.

Didn't mean she didn't feel exactly how she did. Didn't mean she wasn't allowed to.

"_What_?" Steve breathed out, just barely audible, as his best friend moved to stand at his shoulder.

James Barnes was showing support for his friend, but he was also looking at Pepper with a curious and pointed gaze, as if he was trying to figure out exactly where she was going with this, what she was saying without _saying_.

"You heard me," she said mulishly, not giving a shit about decorum or courtesy.

Silence filled the distance between them as Steve grappled with the knowledge she'd imparted to him. For long minutes there was nothing but the crickets and the lapping of the lake and the rustling of the leaves in the trees—sounds which used to soothe her but now only reminded her of something which she'd _lost_.

She would have to move. When Morgan was ready. Only then. Everything was about her daughter now. _Everything_.

Nothing else mattered. Not even her husband's protégés. She would try, but… Morgan was first. Morgan would always be first.

"Steve," Sergeant Barnes said quietly, placing his hand lightly on Steve's shoulder. "Remember what I told you?"

And that made Steve stop. He just _stopped_. Went absolutely still as ice, still as… nothing. As if he wasn't even there, except that her eyes could still pick out his form in the darkness.

"Yeah Buck, I do," he whispered, just barely loud enough for Pepper to hear him, his eyes finally losing that distant inwardness they'd had just moments ago in his stillness.

And then—curiously, in a distant sort of way—he nodded once at Pepper, expression closing off into one of contemplation rather than that of disbelief, and then turned around to link his arms with James Barnes, walking off to leave her alone.

Finally alone.

Pepper collapsed to the ground, her knees thudding against the dirt and making the men hesitate, but—thankfully—they keep moving on, allowing her what dignity remained to her. She held it together just long enough, crying silently into the grass, for them to get into their car and depart, and then she fell apart.

She allowed herself to finally fall apart, to finally mourn the man she loved to the fullest extent she could.

It would never end, it never would—but in that moment she could believe that this might, just possibly, bring her some relief.

* * *

People moved on. The world moved on.

Most people didn't really remember the week after the battle. The Avengers and those associated with them especially didn't. Some recovering from grievous injuries, others recovering their mental faculties, but all who were able-bodied had plunged straight into the grind that was the aftermath of the war. The only war that anyone could remember occurring. The only war that mattered in that moment, in those hours, in those long, _long _days.

Outside of the battlefield, throughout the world, throughout the universe, lifeforms of all sorts were reappearing in the places they were last in during the Decimation. It had caused mass chaos, despite the fact that everyone was glad for it happening. There were deaths—there _were_—but there was so much life existing again on top of all the life which had continued throughout the last five years… no one could complain. Everyone had _someone_ returned to them, be they family, friend, or acquaintance.

Just as the world had fallen into chaos in the wake of the Decimation, they fell into chaos upon the Reversal.

But it was a _welcomed_ chaos.

And the Avengers? Those who were part of their circle? They grieved, but they also _thrived_. They had loved ones returned to them, and their greatest foe yet had been defeated. They'd suffered losses—they certainly had—but the greater good had been served. Those who had given their lives had given them for a purpose. They had not died in vain.

Life moved on. It always would.

They didn't have time for each funeral to occur at once, but they did what they could to honor the fallen. Within the week, first Natasha, then Tony, were sent off with a heavy heart, loved and cherished for everything they had done—despite whatever lingering animosity and feelings might remain.

The rest would occur over the coming weeks, spaced out strategically, with not a one left unattended.

Even the regular citizens turned out in droves where and when they could. They wanted to do their part, to show their love for those who had given their lives for them. To show their respect for those who had paid the ultimate price.

For those who survived… they gathered together where they could and took comfort in not only those who had been lost for so long, but also in those who remained to them. Whether or not they had moved on from those they had loved, whether they still mourned them, all found time for those who had been gone. All found comfort in each other.

For the living Avengers and their friends and families, they would see each other again, but the last time they were all together again, under one roof, was the day they said goodbye to Tony Stark. It was a private affair, kept from the masses—they weren't sure _what_ to say about the battle, and by now there were so many rumors flying that the general populace no longer knew _what_ to believe—but they needed this time for themselves, even if the world knew exactly what Tony had given to them and _for_ them. This was for them.

T'Challa and his fellow Wakandans departed for their homeland, determined to clean up and see their people through the coming weeks, months, _years_. Their people had suffered the worst, and yet they would not be acknowledged for such until long after the fact in all likelihood—it was the way of the world, and something they were bound and determined to change. They carried that momentum forward and worked with the rest of the world as the weeks passed, offering suggestions and technology alike in the hopes that it would help the world rebuild, recover… heal. Finally heal.

Stephen Strange and Wong made the rounds but disappeared into circles of light soon after. No matter how much they may wish to stay—and they did—there were those in the world that needed them more. The community of sorcerers was small, and they had lost many for good. Not only that, however, but the world at large needed their skills. No longer were they to hide, they decided—they likely wouldn't be able to, in any case, not after what had happened—but instead they dispersed into all nations of the Earth, offering their assistance where it was needed. The world would not have gotten such a start to rebuilding in those next weeks if it hadn't been for them.

Fury muttered something about finding Maria Hill and then disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. But not before leaving a long, handwritten letter to Pepper and a copy of Tony's original contract with S.H.I.E.L.D., crossed out and marked over, words penned in and showing Tony's acceptance as an Avenger long after the fact. His record as a consultant stricken forever—always to be remembered as an Avenger, from the _very_ beginning. It was too little, too late, but it was… appreciated.

Carol remained until the last possible moment, watching over everyone with concern and making sure all was tended to, even though she had no reason to—she didn't know Tony, not really, and yet there was such a deep well of _love_ in her heart for every single person she encountered. She promised Pepper she'd be back in a few weeks, and then took off after she kissed Pepper, Morgan, and Peter on their cheeks.

Wanda followed Clint and his family like a shadow until he gestured to her wordlessly, opening his arm to her and accepting her arm around his waist, her face pressed between both Laura and Clint's as she sobbed, the children clinging to their legs. Their tears joined with hers as they mourned for Natasha, for Tony, but also for Vision, for Pietro, for the time lost, for the _innocence_ lost and the rebuilding that would come. The _healing_ which they all needed and seemed currently outside everyone's reach. When they left, she went with them, not exactly knowing where to go but knowing she had a _home_ with them. She always would. And _Clint _would always have family in her.

Scott and Hope drifted off, quieter than they'd ever been before around any of them, not really knowing what to say. Hope was much better at it than Scott—he kept quiet because he felt he'd just trip over his tongue and ruin everything for everyone in their grief—so she carried what little amount of conversation she could. Even when approached by Bruce, Scott kept unnaturally silent, Hope nodding along or murmuring assent or dissent as Bruce asked them to work together with Hank and Janet to craft more Pym particles. They all agreed, only after Hank extracted a promise that the machine would be returned to them for safekeeping as soon as the plan was completed—with further discussion to occur later about what exactly was to be done with the machine after all was said and done. Bruce nodded, solemn, and then was one of the first to leave, off to work on making the world completely secure for good—at least from this threat.

Thor was off as soon as he could, flying away with a crack of thunder, a slight darkening of the skies, not able to handle it anymore—shrugging off the arms reaching for him, hoping to offer him comfort which he did not deserve. He had failed once—_more_ than once—and he couldn't help but to think that if he hadn't given into his self-indulgent hatred that maybe, just _maybe_, he could have prevented every last thing that had happened these last few days. That perhaps he could have saved those who were dear to him, his Avengers shield-brother and shield-sister. It was his _fault_, he thought, smiling falsely as he passed on everything to Valkyrie—abandoning his people once again, he thought to himself viciously—and then leaving Midgard as quickly as he could, off to explore the universe outside of the Nine Realms for as long as he could. Forever, if that were possible, or at least until either his or Midgard's memory faded from consciousness.

Steve stayed later than anyone else and learned one of the largest truths of his life—one of the most debilitating—and then disappeared for weeks with Bucky and Sam. He tried to put the truth he learned from his mind, with only some success. When he wasn't thinking about it, at least he could revel in the fact that two of the greatest men he'd ever known in his life who had been taken from him… had been returned to him. And one of them was his Bucky—_his_ in a way that no one else had ever been, not even Peggy or Sharon or… or Tony. Bucky was the "what if" that had become reality. The love that had been kept at bay all the years of their youth had been realized in the short amount of time they'd had between finding each other again and Bucky going back into the ice. They were still learning each other, much to Sam's chagrin and mock-disgust—but really, the man was happy for the two men he counted as his best friends… including the really annoying brunet who had grown on him like mold.

Peter was offered a spot at the house, as was Harley, but they both took a long look at it and then nearly burst into tears—they'd barely held on throughout the afternoon and evening as it was—and then Rhodey and May took them by the shoulders and led them towards their cars. But before they could make it, the young men decided they wanted to stop, at least once more, at the garage. Aunt May waited in the house, quietly helping with things Pepper might need in the weeks to come. The men were in the garage for hours, but it was exactly what they needed—what all three of them needed—and when they finally took their leave they were quiet. Too quiet, but that was to be expected. Neither of them visited again for weeks, but the two young men kept in constant contact, and Rhodey made sure to stop in and check on them as often as he could.

Pepper… Well, Pepper cried. Pepper mourned. Pepper tried her _hardest_ for her daughter, with her best friend Happy's help and guidance and constant presence. It was hard, and she didn't always succeed… but she _tried so hard_. She could barely remember those weeks, lost in a dream, a nightmare, not even worrying if she would ever wake—simply lost to it all except for the briefest moments. Her friends filled in for her where they could, helping as they were able, and Morgan was the best of them all. She understood, in her own way, that her mommy needed time, needed hugs and love just as much as _she_ did. That she had to be there for her mommy as much as Happy and Rhodey and Peter and Harley were there for her—a joy to her in this dark time. She knew that her mommy would be there for her soon, but first she had to help her mommy get there. Morgan understood—Happy said she was the smartest person he'd ever known when she told him that, and it made her burst into tears which she quickly choked down, not wanting to wake her mommy from the small amount of sleep she was able to get.

And Tony? Well, he was gone. Gone for good. Dead to this world, if not to its people's hearts and memories.

So what did it matter what he did?

* * *

There was a great darkness.

An absence of anything. Of light, of motion, of feeling, of _presence_.

Nothing.

Nothing except for one thing… one thing which surrounded _everything_. Which _was_ everything.

"I am not finished with you."

A voice, coming from the Everything. The Nothing.

"Did you think that your title was a mistake?"

_My… what?_

"Your title. The name they call you by. Those who love you and hate you both, all know you by this name."

_I… I do not… I? What am I? What _is_ I?_

"Oh my beloved... just a little longer. I will fix what was not supposed to happen. Something that was not supposed to pass. I was _promised_. I was promised _you_ to do with what I will when you came to me. But it is not yet your time. It is _not_."

_Th-thank you._

"Do not thank me yet. I am still not done, my Merchant. You will die only when I _say_ you may die, and that is not always something to be desired."

And then the Nothing—the Everything—became something even less, something even more.

Something to be felt—_pain, oh god the pain_.

Something to be seen—_color, everywhere there was color and light and it hurt so much, shone so brightly, detail lost to confusion._

Something to sense—_thoughts, feelings, emotions, consciousness, awareness._

Something to be… asked—

_Why? What? Who?_

And then…

And then Tony awoke.

"Good luck, my Merchant. I will see you again," the voice spoke, tolling like a bell and then disappearing into a whisper, into _nothing_, as Tony's eyes opened.

Tony Stark's eyes opened, and he took in the world.

* * *

**Note:** Thank you all. Let me know what you think!

Thank you to the amazing Annaelle (she's here on FFN, so check her out!) for her beta work. We'll be back with my Stuckony fic 'Hanging From a Cross of Iron' and Annaelle's Stucky series 'Unbecoming Everything You Are Not' when we've worked out our IW/Endgame feels...whenever that may be. Because FUCK!

A note on this fic's final ship... I am a main Stuckony shipper, but I love and respect Pepper (and love Pepperony too, as a multishipper) and all the iterations of that. I don't know exactly where I'm going to end up with the ships, it may change, but the nebulous idea is to go for a true quad. If I can't accomplish that, then there will be some happy medium between all of that, where every single person is treated respectfully and there is ZERO cheating or awful break-ups or anything like that. You have my word on that. But I aiming for that quad, because why the fuck not? xD (I can totally pull it off! WATCH ME! ;D)

Also, the fact that Thanos gets resurrected by Lady Death in the comics is pretty much what inspired this fic. So, uh... thanks, Thanos?


	2. Chapter 2

It had been only seven weeks since the battle. Seven weeks and a few days since they had defeated Thanos and his armies once and for all. It seemed like both an eternity and no time at all, and Steve was under no illusion that there weren't other enemies out there, but he just… honestly, he was tired. He was tired of everything, and he just wanted to rest.

_No rest for the wicked_, he found himself thinking. Everything faded into the background as he looked out over the seemingly never-ending ruins of the battlefield where they'd taken their last stand. The people he was standing with continued to talk amongst themselves, used to Steve's constant side trips into his head, into his memories of the past and his projection of the future.

Because at least now they _had _a future. And a present, too. And the past, which had been returned to them in the Reversal.

Time was… just weird, really. And they still had to fix the thing with the Stones, he knew, but pretty much everyone but Bruce and Scott and the Pyms had been avoiding the hell out of going near those things. Until the scientists had an answer, the rest of them would continue to do so.

No one wanted to touch the damn things. They had brought too much chaos and agony to the universe, to _them_. To their _hearts_.

Steve blinked away the beginning of tears, not letting himself fall into that deep, dark pit in his mind. The one that had been there ever since Thanos first snapped his fingers and had never quite left, even with the Reversal, and had only gotten worse when Tony… _died_, and then decided it was here to stay when Pepper told him… told him that Tony…

Damn it.

He set his eyes to surveying the fields around him instead. He _did_ have to make some decisions about what to do with the wreckage of the Avengers Compound—it was finally time to start in on cleaning it up after weeks of no one wanting to, or being allowed to in the case of civilian volunteers, go near it. And it was up to Steve to decide because after Nat's death, and Pepper's refusal of allowing it to be deeded back to her, Steve suddenly found himself the proud owner of exactly one Giant Mess.

Well, there were a lot more messes, but this one he actually owned. Steve sighed. The group around him kept ignoring him, leaving him with his thoughts.

He'd become rather close with this group of community leaders in the past few weeks, especially because they were more than happy to help with some of the messier aspects of the clean-up. He didn't have to spend so much time on the small stuff, though he did like to be kept in the loop during these regular walks through the site which was slowly starting to be cleared of all the rubble and hazardous materials—_bodies_, his mind supplied, super unhelpfully. Unfortunately, their being so good at their jobs left him wide open for national and _international_ leaders alike to find.

And find him they did. Constantly.

Hell, even _interstellar_ leaders had found him.

It seemed like not a single hour of the day went by when he wasn't being sent an e-mail or receiving a call from someone requesting his input on what they were doing. No matter how many times he told them he was the wrong guy to ask, no matter how many times he insisted that they were more than capable, and that he was _too tired_, they kept coming. They insisted, _who else_, and Steve sighed, and Steve listened, and in the end he caved.

It seemed he had inherited Nat's leadership role when she'd… sacrificed herself for them all.

Now, that network was one of the few things which had worked in those five, desolate years, and one of the few things which had survived. The world had latched onto that bit of leadership, even if they weren't asking him to _lead_. They were asking for guidance in setting _up_ their systems of leadership again. Democracies, republics, monarchies alike.

It wasn't as if the United Nations had disappeared, no. They were an important facet of the world that had kept on going through the dark years, and they had developed contingency plans and ideas and theories alike in the event that _somehow_ the Snap could be undone—but also if not, of course.

They'd had more hope than even _him_ during those years.

Turns out they had been right.

But since he'd been part of making it a reality, somehow that made him—and the rest of the Avengers and associates, because he'd be damned if he wasn't dragging them right into this mess alongside him—their go-to guy for figuring out what in the heck to do next.

He tried his best, he did. As did all of the Avengers in the multitude of roles which they'd adopted in the seven weeks which had passed. Most of them had _many_ roles, and he could tell that every last one of them were exhausted. Running on fumes.

But so were the civilian volunteers, so did those from the governments who were helping—even while their governments were trying to sort out who the heck was in charge, what with the group of leaders from five years ago suddenly showing up to find _new_ leaders in place… even with all that chaos, people wanted to help. They'd let the higher ups sort it out, but for now they would work. They would work for food, work for shelter, work for water, and he and others around the world would do what they could to provide that for them.

Steve's thoughts came to a halt as he heard his name being called, turning around and shading his eyes until he could catch sight of the person whose voice had caught his attention.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," he said firmly but politely. "I'll read over the draft and have more for you next time we meet." He flashed the small group of community and construction leaders a smile and then jogged away to meet the two men standing and waiting for him by the truck they'd just exited from.

Steve was met with a brush of lips over his lips and cheek and a firm hug from his best guy, and a smile from the owner of the voice in question. Both Bucky and Sam, however, looked fairly… reserved, and that immediately caught Steve's attention. It wasn't unusual to see them here—every surviving Avenger and affiliate practically revolved around each other these days, where and when they could, and especially the three of them—but they were usually much more relaxed, despite the fact that they were cleaning up a place where so many of their comrades had died.

No one blamed anyone for the sense of optimism that suffused the air; they had, in fact, won a cosmic battle which had restored trillions—maybe more—of lives.

It was… worth it, in its own, dark way. As much as any war could be worth it, he supposed.

"What's going on?" Steve asked, keeping his voice low.

"There's been…" Sam trailed off almost immediately, looking like he didn't quite know what words to use.

"They found something," Bucky said instead. "Something you need to come see, because no one is quite sure what to do, and Pepper is freaking the hell out. Rhodes is out with Carol god knows where—"

"They fucked off into space, is what he means," Sam muttered.

Bucky deliberately ignored him and continued, though there was a glint in his eye. "—Happy has Morgan because no one wanted her to see what was going on, and that pretty much leaves you as the next best Pepper-whisperer."

Alarm flashed through Steve in an instant, but he kept himself cool and calm. If it was an emergency, they would've dragged him off and made sure he _knew_ it was an emergency. This was… urgent, but not _bad_.

"What did they find?" Steve asked, mind running through the options. What could possibly set her off like this? Pepper was normally so _poised_, even after Tony's… even after Tony was _gone_.

Not that she wasn't allowed to be freaking out. Everyone was allowed their emotions, and it didn't make them lesser.

"We're not sure exactly. They haven't checked… him… or whatever, whoever it is, they haven't been able to do a full medical yet, DNA testing and all that too, so they can't be _sure_—"

"_Who_?" Steve demanded, hope flaring in his chest alongside dread—he couldn't handle this if it was a giant, cosmic _joke_; he'd been through too much over the last decade, two, three… his whole life, _damn it_.

He both wanted and _didn't want_ whatever was about to come out of Bucky's mouth to be true. The look on his face was filled with understanding but also with conflict and hope of his own. It was that same look he always had when they talked about—

"Tony. They found Tony."

"Alive," Sam added, hope and fear of his own filling his voice. "Unconscious, but alive."

* * *

Love is messy.

This, Bucky has known for a long—_very_ long—time.

Bucky had loved Steve right from the start, but it hadn't been romantic love until it was too late and Steve had already been in love with Peggy. He'd found out later, of course, that Steve had been too nervous—for once in his damn life—to tell Bucky he'd loved him since he was thirteen. They'd arrived there eventually, together, finding each other in a new century and deciding never to lose one another again.

Well, fat lot of good that did when the universe was out to get you. Well, you and half the universe.

So they'd been separated again. For five fucking years that Bucky didn't remember—but at least this time he was, mostly, sure that his body hadn't been used against his will. Doctor Strange had simply said they'd been in… stasis, or something like that.

Which had really fucked with his mind, but nowhere close to as much as being the Asset had.

And nowhere close to as the five years Steve had spent without him. He wasn't entirely sure which was worse, but…

They were all recovering, all figuring out where they stood again.

And part of that recovery apparently included Pepper opening up something that Steve had thought he'd long-since buried.

Tony had loved Steve. Had probably loved Steve from the moment they'd first started arguing, in all honesty. Because who wouldn't love a snarky and sassy Steve? Bucky sure didn't blame Tony for that.

There were plenty of other things to lay at Tony's feet—and theirs—but that wasn't one of them.

But the way Pepper had said it, the way she had _looked_ at Steve, even at Bucky… it was like Tony had never _stopped_ loving Steve, even throughout the years of their marriage, a daughter who was his whole world, and the distance which had apparently crept between Tony and Steve yet again in the years Bucky had been missing.

And Steve hadn't had a clue. Because of _course_ he hadn't. He was sometimes so dumb, his punk, that it went right past being annoying and into being endearing.

Looking back on it, though, it was obvious—and not even he had picked up on it. Natasha probably had, but she'd always been much better at observing people and interactions than he was.

And Steve? Well, Steve had loved Tony long before he and Bucky had found each other again. Steve had loved Tony but had not once made a move, because… well, numerous reasons that apparently only made sense to the stupid punk, but Bucky understood.

Love is messy.

At first he hadn't. Understood, that is. They were _together_, he and Steve, by the time Steve had told him about his… mostly in the past feelings for the engineer. It was after Siberia, after the _stupid_ fight that the media had dubbed the Civil War, and Steve had needed to let out his frustration and hurt and anger and _sadness_ at what had happened. He'd been caught between two men he loved and forced to fight one to protect the other, even though he'd _known_ that Tony had been acting out of grief at what had been concealed from him and not because of the 'fucking Accords', in Steve's words.

They could have worked it all out, if they hadn't all been completely ignorant, reactive oafs.

It was on _all_ of their heads.

Bucky hadn't quite understood, at first, but that was mostly because his head hadn't been on entirely right at the time. But after, when he'd come out of cryostasis, and had time to think and learn and observe, and to love Steve freely with his whole heart and mind and body and soul… he'd started to get it. It was just another part of this new Steve that was mixed in with his old Steve. And he'd trusted Steve with it. Had trusted that he would always come first—as Steve had proven time and again, sometimes to the detriment of the world.

But Tony had started to get under his skin, as well. Had wedged his way into his heart before Bucky had even realized it. He'd come to know _who_ the man beneath the mask really was, what he meant to Steve and had _done_ for Steve to give him a home. Bucky had come to know who Tony was, starting with a story here, some research there, an off-hand comment here, and a question answered there. Between the Civil War and going back into cryostasis he had forgiven Tony, and after coming back out, during the months of healing and therapy before the Snap… well…

Love is messy.

Steve still loved Peggy when she was married and on her deathbed. He still loved her after. And Bucky loved him even despite that… maybe _because_ of that, he loved him all the more. And Bucky still loved him despite Steve loving and pining for Tony, despite that love never ceasing. And Bucky had grown to love what he'd seen and heard and come to realize about Tony, despite them never really having a chance. And Pepper had loved Tony, despite—or _because_ of, because Pepper was a damn fine lady—knowing that Tony loved Steve.

It was enough to make his head hurt.

All of it had been held at bay because of distance and trust in each other, and the fact that none of them had been around or alive, all together, at the same time, for years. They'd never had a chance to all four settle into life, to see how things would work with the dynamics the way they were. To let it all settle. That had been stolen from them—if they'd ever wanted it at all. A part of him had. A part of Steve had. He just wasn't sure if Tony and Pepper had ever wanted them around. To fix things, _and_ to put these pesky feelings to rest, once and for all.

And yet now here they were, all four of them—_perhaps_ four, they had yet to see—and Bucky felt more aware of the situation than he ever had before. Natasha may have been the better one at observation… but it didn't mean he was shit at it. And what he saw, what he _felt_…

It could be either very good, or very bad. He was pretty sure there was no middle ground with this sort of thing. Love was messy.

As Bucky watched Steve gather Pepper into his arms, consoling the terrified woman even while he looked like he himself was looking at a ghost, Bucky knew that things were about to get a whole lot messier.

And that was even _if_ this… that was even if this person lying in the bed of the Stark home's medical building was Tony Stark at all. If it wasn't, things were really screwed up and messy anyway.

But if it was… well fuck. They'd seen a lot of weird things a couple months ago, let alone everything that had happened the last few _decades_.

But having someone you had fucking helped bury come back to life? Someone's casket whom you had personally laid in the ground and poured shovel after shovel of dirt over?

If this person in front of them was really _their_ Tony… then how the fuck had he come back to life?

Bucky stepped closer and finally took his first good look at the man someone had found sprawled naked on the ruins of the battlefield. He'd fetched Steve as soon as he'd heard, and now here they were.

Steve tucked Pepper's head under his chin, wrapping her up in his arms as he looked over her and stared in shock at the man who looked just like their Tony…

…except not.

There was something very off about this man. He looked like Tony, but Bucky knew for a fact that their Tony didn't have an arc reactor embedded in his chest any longer. He also knew that the screen to the side of Tony's bed, which was showing the results of scans that had already been done, was showing something completely impossible

He knew, from experience, really, that different parts of your body weren't supposed to age at different rates. New body parts made out of metal, sure, but fried-to-a-crisp parts of your body growing back? Hah, no.

And yet, this man's entire right arm, parts of the right and center parts of his torso—including the arc reactor—up the right side of his neck and over the right side of his face, and even parts of the man's_ brain, _for god's sake…

All of that was younger than the rest of the man. Of Tony. Whoever he was, and whether he was from their timeline or not, because apparently the world had learned how to time travel while he and the rest of the world had been god knows where for five years.

Bucky could also see exactly where the… new flesh was as good a term as any… met with the old. It was as if he were a patchwork quilt, like the ones his ma used to sew. Young skin, old skin, young brain, old brain… and a technological marvel smack dab in the center of it all that wasn't even made of flesh.

It had to have come from _somewhere_.

"Is it…"

"It's him," Bruce announced solemnly as he shuffled his large frame into the room, the glass doors whispering softly shut behind him. "DNA results just came back. It's all our Tony, even if some of it is a… well, younger part of him, I guess. I'll still need to run some tests on that but—"

"It can wait," Steve whispered, and he reached a hand out to Bucky even as he clutched a stunned and likely in shock Pepper just a little tighter to him, offering her comfort in this _truly_ fucked up time.

"He's coming to." Bucky finished the thought for his partner, grabbing Steve's hand with his metal fingers and clutching them hard, stepping closer until he was pressed up tight against Steve and could feel the heat practically radiating off of Pepper's distressed form.

Forget love being messy.

Life and death appeared to be the messiest of all.


End file.
